


Reality

by ami_ven



Series: Virtual Reality [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 01:16:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It took forty-eight hours for the science team to shut down the Ancient virtual reality pod, but for John, three entire weeks had gone by.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reality

It took forty-eight hours for the science team to shut down the Ancient virtual reality pod, but for John, three entire weeks had gone by.

He had spent those three virtual weeks thinking he was back in Atlantis, that nothing was wrong. Three weeks doing paperwork and making patrol schedules and attending staff meetings. Three weeks training Marines and spending time with Torren and trying to figure out what was in the mystery meatloaf.

Three weeks of believing that Rodney loved him.

When the VR pod had hissed open, Rodney had been right there and John had reached for him without thinking. Rodney’s fingers closed around his wrist, warm and sure and familiar, but then he had taken a step back, suddenly, releasing John’s hand as though he’d been burned, and John knew it had all been a lie.

“What happened?” he’d asked. Carson and Radek seemed to think that meant he had no memories of the virtual reality, and after they recounted their two days of trying to get the pod open, he saw no reason to correct them.

But the problem was that he had _too many_ memories.

John remembered coming out of the ruins they’d been exploring and going back to Atlantis. He remembered Rodney catching up with him after the debriefing, needing him to activate some Ancient doohickey they’d found a few missions earlier. He remembered it lighting up at his touch— and Rodney lighting up, too, darting around the lab to check his results before stopping to grin, beaming, at John. 

He remembered smiling back, reaching out and pulling Rodney into a kiss. He remembered Rodney freezing for only a split-second before kissing him back, long and deep and leaving no chance of misunderstanding. He remembered stumbling back to Rodney’s quarters, closer to the lab than his own, and tumbling into bed. He remembered learning the familiar shape of Rodney’s body all over again from a new angle. He remembered telling Rodney things he’d never said out loud before, listening to the things Rodney told him back.

Then, John remembered that none of it was real.

And what kind of person did that make him? That, theoretically, even if he hadn’t consciously known it, he could have lived out anything in the virtual reality Atlantis, and he’d chosen a graphic sexual fantasy about his best friend?

John’s fingers itched to touch Rodney, so he kept his distance, ignoring the increasingly-concerned looks he kept getting from him. He had crossed a line, even if Rodney didn’t know it, and he didn’t deserve any sympathy, especially not from Rodney.

Their next mission, to P2X-954, was completely normal. Which meant, of course, that they hiked three miles to a tiny, primitive village, only to be chased back to the ‘gate for violating the sanctity of their crumbling and unlabeled Holy Temple. Rodney had managed to avoid the arrow aimed at his chest, but had twisted his ankle on the way down. John hauled him upright, Rodney’s arm over his shoulder, and kept them moving.

Rodney’s ankle was only bruised, Carson had assured them. He was walking on it, carefully, by the time he left the infirmary, but John walked him back to his quarters anyway.

“You need anything?” he asked, watching Rodney sink carefully onto his bed.

Rodney waved a dismissive hand. “It’s only a bruise, Sheppard,” he said. “And you look like crap. Go get some rest before you collapse or something.”

John snorted a laugh, but nodded. An early night sounded like a really good idea after the kind of day they’d had.

“Sheppard?” Rodney asked, suddenly, and John stopped short.

He’d taken a step closer to Rodney, leaning down and about to kiss him goodbye without even thinking— the same thoughtlessly affectionate kiss they’d shared so many times in his virtual fantasies.

“Sorry,” he said, straightening and taking a step back. “I’m sorry. I just forgot— I mean, I—”

Rodney frowned. “You forgot?” he repeated, slowly. “But that means… You _do_ remember something from the VR pod.”

John wanted to deny it, but he just couldn’t bring himself to lie to Rodney, not about this. “I remember everything,” he said, softly. “And I’m sorry, Rodney. Everyone assumed that I couldn’t remember, and I let them keep thinking it because I didn’t want to have to explain.”

“Sheppard…”

“But I should have told _you_ , Rodney, because it wasn’t just a dream or a fantasy, it was a whole virtual world and I had no right to… to use you like that.”

“Sheppard…”

“It wasn’t real, I know that. Everything that we— everything that happened in there was just a figment of my imagination. So, I’m sorry if you think I’ve been avoiding you lately, because I kind of was. I needed time to get that all this wasn’t real. I’ll just… I need more time, but I will, I’ll…”

“John,” said Rodney, soft and affectionate. He reached out to slide his fingers around John’s wrist— just like he’d done when they’d first opened the VR pod, just like virtual-Rodney had done so often in his virtual-Atlantis— and tugged him closer.

“John,” he said again, more firmly. “It was me.”

“I— What?”

Rodney didn’t quite meet his eyes, but his grip tightened on John’s wrist. “The virtual reality wasn’t stable,” he said. “And it would only work for people with the gene. We had to know if you were still in there, how badly the program was malfunctioning, and if it was affecting you. And even after we knew you were in the program, Carson couldn’t be sure what would happen if you suddenly found out it wasn’t real, if you did something stupid, like try to fight your way out of it, so I couldn’t risk telling you that we were trying to get you out. I was only supposed to keep your mind active, to make sure you were okay, so that he and Radek could figure it out. But then you kissed me, and…”

John sat down, hard, on the edge of the bed. “God, Rodney,” he breathed. “Why didn’t you tell me when I woke up?”

“Because I thought you didn’t remember! It felt like you’d gotten drunk or drugged or something, and I’d taken advantage of you. And why didn’t _you_ tell me?”

“Because it felt like I’d taken advantage of _you_ ,” John retorted. “I thought it wasn’t real. What was I supposed to say, Rodney? That in the two days it took you to get me out, I spent three weeks in love with you? And not even you, but some fantasy you that I imagined?”

“It was _me_ , John,” said Rodney. “It was me the whole time. The virtual reality program couldn’t create anything other than the planet it was on with just your mind. It needed both of our memories to have enough data. So that fantasy me you imagined? Didn’t exist. That was my mind, reacting to yours.”

John blinked at him. “But I… _you_ …”

Rodney got up, slow because of his ankle, and moved to stand directly in front of him. “Virtual reality or not, John, it was us.”

“Was it?” John asked, more pleading than he’d intended.

Rodney just grinned, sliding his hands up to cup John’s face, and leaned in to kiss him. “John,” he said again. “It’s _us_.”

“Yes, it is,” John said, smiling, and this time, he kissed Rodney.


End file.
